When I write, I try to take an anecdote and make it into a story. Sometimes I have random ideas or fleeting thoughts that, try as I might, I am unable to turn into a complete narrative. Those thoughts just float around in my skull, trying to take shape, but generally get forgotten when a bigger, better incident occurs that just begs to be shared. Instead of obsessing over how to make a brief episode into a 1,000 word essay, I will list a few. We all have odd thoughts, right? But how many of us are willing to share them?
• Today I saw a rather portly woman in the Whole Foods parking lot. She was dressed in a red and black buffalo check tunic shirt, tight jeans, and a matching fleece lined red and black buffalo check hunting cap with ear flaps. I don’t as a rule make fun of people with weight problems since I too have had a life-long battle with the scale. I do, however, make fun of poor fashion sense. If you want to draw attention to your size, I recommend an oversized red and black buffalo check tunic shirt. And if you want to accent your crazy, add a matching black and red buffalo check hat with ear flaps. No doubt I saw that one coming before I started backing out of my parking space.
• You know what smells bad? Fourth graders. Whew. Their stench is a combination of dirty sneakers, cheese puffs, greasy hair, and onions. Individually, a fourth grader might not smell bad, but if you fill a charter bus full of fourth graders, you can’t miss it. I make it a habit of getting my nose in my daughter’s armpits once a week and seeing if she has come of age, like a good Camembert. So far, it’s not her, but the rest of her class needs a hot shower and some Speed Stick. It’s not quite the mature stink of the inside of a cable car in San Francisco or Epcot on a hot day in July, but trust me, that’s the direction it is heading.
• I own two cats. I don’t like that way that sounds, let me try again. Two cats live in my house. The idea of animals living in your house sounds nice until you really think about it. One of them throws up on a weekly basis. They take turns so that I can’t get too angry with either of them, but they are always eating something they shouldn’t, like a stray piece of pumpkin muffin, white cheddar popcorn dust, the leaves of any living houseplant, or a spider. And no matter how much time I spend at home, I never catch them in the act. I am constantly cleaning up cat puke. The other thing about them is that they love to smell things and then kind of taste it, which my brother in law refers to as smasting. Their favorite thing to smaste is each other’s assholes. Even when I know they are going in for a little sniff and lick, I still can’t look away.
• I have bad dreams about my mother all the time. I’m not dreaming about her because I am worried about her. I am dreaming about her because she even haunts my sleep. Last night’s dream involved her showing up at my house unannounced and uninvited for Christmas and giving everyone but me a box of donuts for a gift. I guess she showed me, huh?
• Why is it that some people are so good at organizing their homes and some people, like me, are not? My house always looks like we might have to flee in the middle of the night. If I straighten up, which I have to do every two weeks before the cleaning lady comes, I can’t tell the house was even cleaned maybe forty-five minutes after she leaves. Also, what is it about my family that makes everyone but me incapable of picking up anything lying on the floor? I could walk over the same scrap of envelope on the floor for three days before I finally pick it up. What about the other three people that live in this house? Or am I the only one who looks at the floor when she walks?
• Why are farts so funny? Burping isn’t funny, well, not usually anyway. Is it because the potential to vomit with a burp lessens the humor, but the idea of someone crapping their pants is delightful? No, it’s more gotta be more than that. One of my friends gave my daughters a remote controlled fart machine. So far this holiday break, I've continuously heard a string of gas emissions emanating from somewhere in the house. It never gets old. In a similar act of paying it forward, I give my friend MJ’s daughter a whoopee cushion for Christmas every year. She needs a new one every year because she plays with it until it pops. It never gets old. When we go to visit my in-laws, who are both in poor health, my mother in law will occasionally cut the cheese in front of us, as her medical condition and poor dietary habits cause her to be flatulent. When she toots accidentally in front of us, no one says a word, but we all give each other that look. When we get in the car, that’s when the laughter starts. Because it never gets old.
That’s just a small collection of thoughts flitting about, trying to take root. Tomorrow will offer up a whole new array of inappropriate ideas that I will share aloud, squelch, or save for another day. I am amazed I can pay attention to anything at all, what with all these observations cluttering up my gray matter. If I get real quiet when you are talking to me, chances are pretty good I’ve checked out and gone up to my attic to play with my toys. It sure beats being an adult out here with the rest of you.
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